


Keep Your Enemies Closer

by Sidonie



Series: The King's Squire [17]
Category: Protector of the Small - Tamora Pierce
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-06-17
Updated: 2011-06-17
Packaged: 2017-10-20 12:17:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 710
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/212702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sidonie/pseuds/Sidonie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Jon and Alanna decide to visit the Bloody Hawk on the Progress and Zahir and Neal are not pleased with the prospect of traveling together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. All Due Respect

**Author's Note:**

> Unlike most other parts of my King's Squire series (you don't have to read it in order, see "Proposal" for details), this one is not finished. The chapters each stand alone, though, so it is still readable.

“Zahir!” Jon entered the room with a smile, prompting a curious glance from his squire.

“What is it?”

Settling himself in a nearby chair, the king grinned. “It took months of talking down my advisers, but we have permission. When this damned progress stops in Persepolis, we are going to visit the Bloody Hawk together.”

Zahir's eyes widened. “We—how long?”

“Two weeks. It's as long as I could squeeze out of them, and it's more than enough.”

“Alone? Just us? That seems . . . imprudent.”

“Ah, yes. About that.” Jon folded his hands, expression growing more more serious. We will of course be under the protection of the Bazhir, with an escort from Persepolis. And we will travel with the Lady Alanna.”

Zahir blanched. “The Lioness?”

“And her squire.”

“Her—oh, Mithros, she chose Queenscove, didn't she?”

Jon's face was impassive. “Just yesterday. I'm surprised word has traveled so fast.”

“Sire, with all due respect—”

“Why is it that the more formally you address me, the more insolent your remarks?”

“ _With all due respect_ , if you expect me to travel in such company you grossly overestimate my ability to deal with fools and harlots.” Zahir paled even as the words left his mouth, obviously terrified of the response, but he took a deep breath and set his jaw.

The king stood, moving slowly and deliberately. “I will overlook that comment for now,” he stated evenly. “But understand: as your knight-master, I require that you do what I ask of you.”

Zahir's lips thinned in anger. “And you ask this of me.”

“I do.”


	2. Banter

Within a day of preparing for the eventual trip from Persepolis, Zahir had learned one thing: Nealan of Queenscove was as loud and irritating as ever.

“Visit the Bazhir, it'll be an adventure!” the other squire exclaimed with false brightness as they checked through the royal stores. “Sand, sun, brown-eyed beauties, what more could you ask for? Oh, but there's a slight catch: you'll spend the entire time sleeping in a _tent_ with one of your _mortal enemies_. Wonderful!”

“You are aware that you're talking aloud, right? I can hear you.”

“Oh, believe me, I know,” Queenscove retorted. “But given you spent your page years ruthlessly torturing my best friend, somehow I'm not too broken up about you feeling insulted. Funny, that.”

Zahir gritted his teeth and jotted down the number of spare stirrups that had succumbed to rust. A moment of silence gave him hope that the problem would go away if ignored, before the the lanky squire broke it again.

“You know what's so great about having the Lioness as a knight-master? I _respect_ her. Mithros, I can't _imagine_ having someone you disliked; it would defeat the whole purpose, don't you think? You'd never learn anything, just sit there hating them—what a _miserable_ existence.”

“And here I thought the Ordeal wasn't until the fourth year.”

“Just look at Kel and my Lord of Goldenlake. They get on marvelously and she's making huge strides, not that she didn't already put us all to shame. But spending day after day with someone you despise would just wear on you, don't you think?”

“I'm beginning to get that feeling, yes.”

“Of course, none of that's a problem if you're not a hateful, close-minded snake who likes to bully people littler than you. But if you were, having a kind, decent person for a knight-master could only be—”

“Queenscove! I _don't_ hate Jon!”

“—torture, and—wait, what?”

Zahir stalked toward his fellow squire, livid with rage. “I don't hate the king,” he repeated. “If anyone is being close-minded, it's you.” He had backed Queenscove into a corner now. “I _like_ Jon. He has been more than generous to me. I think he's a good man. Give me a few years and I might even be convinced he's a good king. So if you would kindly _shut up_ about things you know _nothing_ of, perhaps you could make your idiocy a little less obvious. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go tell the quartermaster that unless he plans for the Own to ride bareback, he'll need more saddles.” He turned on his heel and left, feeling Queenscove's disbelieving stare on his back all the way out the door.


End file.
